The Deal
by Color With Marker
Summary: Based on Goethe's Faust. Freddie can't stand watching Anatoly always winning, so he makes a deal with the devil to get back at the Russian. Girl!Freddie. Implied Kings, unrequitted FlorenceFreddie, and a tiny bit of FlorenceAnatoly.


_**If anyone knows what Faust is, it's about a man (Faust) who makes a deal with the devil and it backfires on him terribly. So that's basically what's gonne happen to Freddie.**_

* * *

Freddie Trumper was not one who liked to lose. Not as a child, and certainly not now. He'd fought to become the chess champion of 1985. All it took was one Commie, that damned Anatoly Sergievsky, to take away not only his title, but his pride and his girl. Florence Vassy. The woman at his side from the beginning, at least, until he'd caught the two traitors on the mountain in Merano, flirting. She was using him to get her father out of prison, but she should've known the anti-Russian crusade was just an act. Sergievsky was married! How could one just take two women's hearts and control them like that?

Now it's 1987. They're in Bangkok. Anatoly had beaten his ex-chess-playing-second, ruined Florence's chances of ever saving her father, and Freddie had been rejected by everyone.

He wandered the streets of Bangkok, no longer entranced by the men and women who reached out at him as they passed by. In the back of his mind, the sounds of Florence and Anatoly's words came back to haunt him.

"_Let him spill out his hate, till he knows he's deserted!_"

"_You want to lose your only friend? Well keep it up, you're doing fine!_"

"_Funny how all at once I feel that he can go jump off the mountain - I won't care!_"

Freddie grabbed his hair and yanked on it and screamed. It didn't make the voices in his head go away. They grew louder. They didn't want Freddie to forget the pain of losing everything.

It wasn't fair. Why could Anatoly Sergievsky destroy people's lives left and right without a single care? Freddie had suffered enough long before knowing this Commie. He had to spend the past days watching Anatoly try juggling chess, politics, and his romantic life, and somehow managing to come out a winner in the end. Freddie felt jealousy shoot through him. Since when did the Russians ever win, especially a crusader?

Freddie marched into an empty temple. The bronze walls shone as the rays from the sunset cast upon them. An altar toward the back lacked a statue. According to some civilians, it had too many cracks in it for others' safety, in case it broke apart and hurt someone. The emptiness matched Freddie's feelings. He stood at the altar and stared at the ceiling.

"I have no idea what I'm supposed to do here," he began. "I guess I'm supposed to pray and give thanks or something?" He snorted. "What do I have to be thankful for? My life has gone down the drain. I'm no longer the world chess champion, the woman I love left me for another man, and he's taken everything away from me. It's... it's not fair! How come that red bastard gets to live the perfect life and do as he pleases, meanwhile I have to suffer for the rest of my life! I want to watch his life fall apart like everyone else's has. I want to make him suffer!" Freddie screamed at the top of his lungs. "I want to make Sergievsky suffer!"

"Suffer?"

Freddie whipped around at the sound of a new voice. He saw no one. "Who's there?" he called out.

"Right in front of you."

Freddie looked back to see there was a new person standing before him. He was a tall man, slender and pale in comparison to the rest of the people in Bangkok. His eyes were so light that they could easily be mistaken as entirely white. Something about the presence of this stranger made Freddie feel uncomfortable.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Who I am is not important," the stranger responded. "But what I can do for you is."

Freddie raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

"I understand you want to make a certain man named Sergievsky suffer?" The stranger circled around Freddie, staring at him and smiling. "What has he done to you?"

Freddie looked at the ground. "He... he took the last of what I had from me. He stole the two things that ever mattered from me, and he made it seem like a joke."

"What do you mean?"

"Chess. I'd spent countless hours up in my room, playing the game and perfecting every move I made. Then he comes in and acts as if it's some sort of joke! He takes his talent, his skill and wastes it away just for attention! And Florence... oh, god, he took Florence from me, too. And now she's back there, crying because Anatoly decided that he was going to dangle her father's freedom in front of her before snatching it away. I could've helped save her father! That bastard did nothing but take advantage of vulnerable women!" Freddie clenched his fists. "I want him to feel the pain that he's put everyone else through!"

"And how would you do that?" the stranger asked.

Freddie thought for a moment. "I would... be one of the women he tries to play out. But instead of letting him get the best of me, I would distract him from the game. By the time we were at the championships next year, he wouldn't be able to focus enough to win the game. Then the Embassy wouldn't care, Florence would realize he was garbage, maybe even his wife would leave him for good! And I would bask in the glory of getting my revenge, while he had to live knowing he can't always win."

The stranger stopped walking and smiled. "How well thought-out," he said. "Perhaps I could help you put this plan in motion."

"What?"

"I could help make you a deal." The stranger produced a paper out of thin air. Freddie had to assume he was drunk. "I'll turn you into a woman. A beautiful woman, one who this Sergievsky man would not be able to resist. He'll take you to wherever until next year, and you can help take his mind off chess. So when next year rolls around, he won't be able to play the game as well as he usually does. Once he loses, you'll become a man again, and all will be well."

Freddie thought about this. He definitely had to be drunk. Did this man, this _stranger_ believe he could make Freddie a woman and get vengeance on Sergievsky? It was so unreal it was comical. Yet, what if this man was telling the truth? Maybe he was able to make Freddie a woman? Then he could entrance the idiotic Russian and get in his head. And Sergievsky would be none the wiser.

"This deal will only last for a year?" Freddie asked.

"When Anatoly loses the championships," the stranger answered. "All you have to do is sign here in blood and-"

"Wait, I have to sign in _blood_?"

The stranger nodded. "How else will I know you're serious?"

Freddie shrugged. If he wasn't sober, did any of this really matter? It was probably all of his imagination anyway. "I guess that makes sense."

"Excellent." The stranger pulled a quill from his sleeve and pricked his wrist. The tip of the quill was dipped in the bead of blood on his skin and held it out to Freddie. Without thinking twice, Freddie signed the document. As soon as he wrote the last letter of his surname, he felt something strange happening to his body.

"What the...?" He ran over to one of the nearby pillars and watched as his reflection morphed into a female body. His scalp tickled as his hair grew down to his shoulders. His chest grew outward and his waist went inward. His all-white suit was now a simple white dress. He shrunk a few inches in height. Now, Frederick Trumper was a woman.

"Well?" the stranger asked as he stood behind Freddie. "What do you think?" Freddie squinted at the two reflections. There was something different about the man. There was a red tint in his eyes. The seemingly innocent look on his face now had a more evil appearance. And was that... two horns on his head.

"You're the devil," Freddie whispered as it dawned on him - her now.

"And she is a clever girl," the devil said. "Now don't you have a man to seduce?"

Freddie stared at her new body and nodded. "Yes I do."

* * *

Anatoly was enjoying having a room to himself. After their goodbyes, Anatoly found out that Florence was spending the next day at the same hotel his wife, Svetlana, was staying at. It was better than having to deal with the awkwardness of sleeping in the same bed another night. After this, there was no way she'd ever face him again. Svetlana, however, agreed that someone needed to be the father of their two daughters, despite having been abandoned for some Hungarian-born American woman. Anatoly had nothing better to do on his own, so he had decided to take advantage of the minibar.

There was a knock at the door. Who could that be? Was it Walter de Courcy, trying to set up a "spontaneous" interview for Global Television? Or perhaps Molokov wanted to get his champion back. Whichever man it was, Anatoly didn't want to deal with him. He approached the door and said, "Whatever it is, the answer is no." Whoever it was, they knocked again. Now Anatoly was annoyed. "I said no!" He swung the door open and was immediately taken by surprise.

A petite blonde woman was standing outside his door. Had this been any other day, he wouldn't have let her in the room. But seeing this new girl made him realize how lonely he actually was. How could he turn her away now?

"Are you Anatoly Sergievsky?" she asked.

"Yes, I am," Anatoly answered.

"My name is... Ana. I heard you were in Bangkok for the chess championships, and I just _had_ to meet you. Rumor has it you won."

"As of today, I'm still world champion." There was something about Ana that reminded Anatoly of someone he knew. He couldn't put his finger on it.

"Come on in, Ana," he invited. "I'll tell you about the championships." He opened the door wider and Ana walked in. He grinned and shut the door behind her.

* * *

Sydney, Australia, March 1988. Once again, it was the world championship. After last year's humiliating defeat, Leonid Viigand returned to once again try to defeat Sergievsky. Anatoly knew this rematch was inevitable, so he'd been practicing as much as he could. Unlike other years, where Anatoly could play chess day and night with Svetlana or Florence standing to the side, his new mistress was very interested in the game. In fact, Ana had skills unlike most others. The tactics she used were strangely familiar. In fact, everything about her seemed to be a memory of something he couldn't remember. And when she wasn't playing chess with him, she was taking him out and keeping him on his toes, which was most of the time. He was lucky he hadn't forgotten how to move a pawn.

As Anatoly and Ana arrived at the Four Seasons Hotel in Sydney, they were spotted by Florence. She went right up to them. "Hello, Anatoly," she greeted. "Are you here to play Viigand again?"

"You knew I would be here," Anatoly said. "Better yet, why are _you_ here?"

"I've been appointed to cover the chess tournament for Freddie this year. No one's seen him ever since Bangkok last year. We all think he's still there, partying like there's no tomorrow." Florence straightened out her suit. "I haven't worn this since Merano, you know."

"I do know."

Freddie frowned. Up until now, his charade as Ana had been working flawlessly. He didn't need Florence ruining this all for him. He stood between Anatoly and Florence and held out his hand. "Hello," he said. "I'm Ana Trump. And you are...?"

"Florence Vassy." Florence shook Freddie's hand and stared at her. Freddie pulled his hand away quickly and adverted his eyes. Of all the people he knew, he didn't want Florence to discover he was Ana.

"Let's go pay a visit to Viigand," Anatoly suggested.

"Of course," Freddie answered. He put his arm around Anatoly and waved to Florence as they walked away.

* * *

Freddie paced around the lobby of the hotel. Once again, Anatoly and Viigand landed in the same predicament as last year: a tie, 5-5, with only one game left to determine who would be champion, which was currently taking place. This was too close of a call. Anatoly needed to have a slip-up for Freddie to finally have his revenge. But it would be nearly impossible for Anatoly to lose now. Why did Freddie have to tell him about Viigand's flawed King Indian's defense? Even worse, Florence has been at Anatoly's side the entire time they'd been here. Not only was he mad at Florence for trying to push himself out of the picture, but his feelings for his ex-partner were resurfacing. The more she was around, the more he wanted her. But Florence wasn't going to want a woman.

"What's wrong?" Freddie recognized the voice. He turned to see the devil, smiling as if everything was okay.

"You know damn well what's wrong!" Freddie cried.

"Well what do you want me to do about it?"

"I want to call off the deal! I want to be a man again! I _need_ to be a woman again!"

"I'm sorry, but I can't do that for you."

Freddie laughed. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Did you not read this before you signed it?" The devil pulled the document from his cloak and held it out to Freddie. "You can't become a man again until this Sergievsky loses the match. If he wins, then you'll be a woman for one more year... or longer, depending on how terrible his competition is in comparison. You might be a woman for the rest of your life."

"No..." Freddie couldn't stay a woman. He was born a man, and wanted to go back to being a man. When he was a man, he could get any woman he wanted and intimidate any man who passed by. If he were still a man, he could've won Florence back by now. He couldn't go another year lying in the same bed as Sergievsky, pretending he cared about the anti-Russian crusader. "No, you can't do this to me!"

"You did this to yourself, Frederick," the devil responded.

"Hey, look!" someone in the hotel called out as he pointed to the television. Everyone looked at the screen to see Florence.

"_And in a surprising comeback during the final round, Anatoly Sergievsky is now the three-time chess world champion. This is Florence Vassy for Global Television_."

"It looks like the deal still continues," the devil told Freddie.

"I'll kill you!" Freddie pounced at the devil, only to crash into the floor as the demon vanished in thin air. "I can't lose again!" he screamed. "I can't lose again!"

No, he couldn't lose again. Freddie got on his feet and stormed through the hotel. He burst into the conference room where the match had just ended. Viigand and Sergievsky were shaking hands. Florence stood to the side and smiled for her old friend. Molokov's tan face was turning red with anger. Reporters swarmed Sergievsky. Freddie spotted a security guard and the gun in the holster attached to his hip. He swiftly snatched the weapon and slipped it in his purse. He waited until Sergievsky and Florence left the room and followed behind them. He followed them to the room he was sharing with Sergievsky. After a few minutes of standing outside the room silence, he opened the door with his room key and pointed his gun at the two, who were sitting on the bed.

"Ana!" Sergievsky jumped up. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, god, are you really that blind?" Freddie laughed, his finger resting on the hammer.

"What do you mean?"

"All this time, you never figured out who I am? Don't I look familiar to you?"

Anatoly stepped closer and stared at Freddie. He didn't seem able to identify him, but Florence did in seconds. "Freddie?" she asked.

"I always knew you were the smarter one," Freddie said.

"What!" Anatoly seemed disgusted. "Why would you do such a thing?"

"Because I wanted you to feel the pain that you put everyone else through. But, since you obviously can't be taken down so easily, I guess I'll have to do it my way." Freddie pulled the hammer down and put his finger on the trigger.

"Y-you don't have to do this, Freddie," Florence said. "Please, there has to be another way."

"I wish there was, Florence." Freddie took a deep breath and pulled the trigger. He closed his eyes and looked away as he did. When he didn't hear any screaming, he looked back to see Florence collapse on the ground.

"What have you done?" Anatoly shouted.

"I meant to shoot you!" Freddie exclaimed. He shot the woman he loved. He hadn't meant to. He should've known, Sergievsky never lost. Freddie dropped the gun and fell back against the wall. "I didn't mean to hit her."

"There she is!" Police officers grabbed Freddie and pulled him out of the room. He stared at Florence's lifeless body and tried his hardest not to cry.

* * *

Australia made a final decision about what to do with Freddie. Today, only weeks after Florence's death, Freddie would be hanged in the prison courtyard. He sat in his prison cell, feeling the eyes of the other women around him staring at him. Not only was he dying a criminal, he was dying a woman. This wasn't the life he wanted. Why him?

"Funny how things work out in the end," the devil said from the other side of the cell. Freddie immediately slammed the devil against the wall with his hands around the demon's neck.

"Give me a good reason why I shouldn't kill you," Freddie threatened.

"Because it's not going to bring her back." Freddie glared at him before releasing him. "Besides, I wouldn't want to miss the main event."

"Bastard," Freddie spat. "I'm in this mess because of you!"

"And now you're about to get out of it." The devil nodded to the guards unlocking Freddie's cell. "I'll see you on the flip side."

The guards cuffed Freddie's wrists and ankles before leading him away. Other women around him called out to him, laughing and humiliating him. Never had Freddie felt more ashamed in his life. He closed his eyes as he was lead outside. He didn't even open them when the noose was placed around his neck.

"I hope you feel bad for murdering that poor woman, miss," one of the guards murmured.

"You have no idea," Freddie replied quietly. Now he willed himself to open his eyes. He saw the devil standing in the front of the crowd, with everyone he knew next to him. Sergievsky, Molokov, Walter, even Viigand. It was if they'd all awaited the death of their enemy. It was an embarrassment to him. "Commie bastard," he mouthed to Sergievsky. The Russian's face was hard and expressionless.

When the floor fell out underneath him, Freddie felt something strange. No, it wasn't his inability to breathe, but something else. When it went away, he saw the shocked faces of the men before him.

Freddie hung lifeless before everyone as a man once again.


End file.
